27 October 2011

Today was a very sad day at our house. Our beautiful blue harlequin budgie Loco died. We buried him in the garden outside Ari's window beneath some yellow daisies. We are not particularly religious but Ari told me that he thinks Loco is a little angel bird now and so he wanted
to lay Loco where Loco's spirit could peer in at his bedroom window
and watch him playing...

so Loco's spirit wouldn't be lonely.

Sadly by the time Loco was noticeably sick it was too late to do much for him.... though I don't think much could have saved him anyway. He had some sort of growth in his abdomen and though we tried our best to nurse him, he died at the animal hospital shortly after it was discovered.

He lived in our studio with his sweetheart Coo Coo and kept me fine company whilst I worked on my designs, serenading his sweetheart all day long. He had unfortunately lost the sight in one eye during a battle with a hawk.

One golden afternoon whilst enjoying a little sunshine on the porch as they often did, a hawk had landed on the budgies' cage and grabbed Coo Coo by her wing feathers. Loco jumped to her defence and attacked the hawk's talon fiercely. He survived and even though he lost the sight of his eye, remained a chirpy little fellow right to the end.

The vet nurse (who also has budgies) suggested we get another bird this weekend. Coo Coo is pining for him terribly and being social creatures, budgies cannot bare life alone. I'd prefer a little time to get used to the idea of 'replacing' our dear little friend, but Coo Coo calls constantly for her mate and I pity her loneliness.

So we shall find her a new friend. Perhaps of a different colour. I think Loco will be the only dear little blue harlequin we'll ever love.

hello there & welcome...

IN THIS MODERN FABLE...

..............we are the wolves

living somewhere between the dark forest and the modern city; learning from the old ways and adapting to new ways; drawing inspiration from the traditions of hand-craft and the cottage industry; balancing the making of art with the raising of a child; and trying to tread gently on this precious earth